


starshine

by IvyMandragora



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kisses, M/M, basically just a nice day at the beach, but they are happy, ocean swimming, slightly bittersweet tone at times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvyMandragora/pseuds/IvyMandragora
Summary: Jaskier convinces Geralt to take a break from their journey and go for a swim.(Started from the prompt: A good sensory experience)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	starshine

The trail they’ve been using threads through the woods within earshot of the sea. Jaskier catches a glimpse of it in the distance where the tree line gets sparse, and it’s giving him  _ ideas _ . Summer’s arrived in force and the sweat trickling between his shoulder blades despite the lightweight fabric of his shirt is becoming unfortunate. 

Urgh. It’s.. it’s right there, and someone should  _ do _ something about it. He spurs his horse forward, just enough to catch up to where Geralt is plodding steadily along.

“Geralt! We should go for a swim.” 

Geralt’s face does something which Jaskier chooses to interpret as an expression of fondness. “If we keep this pace we’ll reach town by nightfall.”

There are certainly pleasures offered by the prospect of an inn, and Jaskier turns his thoughts to those, but before long they’ve rounded another bend and the luxuriant greenery of early summer gives way to an expanse of open cliff side offering a perfect view out to the sea.

It’s a good day, but not a gentle one. The sky is more gray than blue and the waves are high. High-ish. Perhaps medium sized. Very tempting and probably there aren’t even any drowners, from the look of it.

Jaskier shoots a glance over at Geralt, who has reined in Roach to gaze out toward the horizon. There’s a pathway winding down to the beach, which tips this situation firmly into irresistible. 

“Geralt we  _ need _ to go down there. Look! We can camp on the beach after — look up at the stars and listen to the surf— ”

It was a perfect, quiet stretch of beach, and that offers nearly as many advantages as an inn.

Geralt rolls his eyes. “Swimming it is, then.” But he’s smiling, just the tiniest smile, and it lights Jaskier up inside. 

It’s a gods damned gift is what it is, the way Geralt’s begun to open, to allow himself things, since  _ they _ became something more. Surely even witchers could enjoy a dip in the sea on a hot day. 

Near the bottom they find a good clearing to leave their horses and belongings, and soon strip down to their underthings. The mild breeze feels delicious on Jaskier’s bare skin, and he takes off toward the water with Geralt not far behind.

However. He’s seen gentle soft sand beaches, rocky windswept beaches, terrible drowner infested beaches. This... is its own thing. It’s invitingly beautiful, but as they approach the shoreline they can see just how high the waves crest, and feel icy cold spray from the crashing breakers.

“Still wanna go in?” Geralt looks over with mild concern. “Water’s rough.” 

Jaskier doesn’t hesitate. “Oh, I’m going in. And you?” He’s got a huge grin on his face and Geralt’s eyes go soft. “Yeah, Jask. Let’s swim.”

They step out into the surf and oh, it’s cold. Early summer and despite the heat in the air, the water has yet to catch up. Jaskier pushes forward into the spray, trying to time the intervals just right.

_ Sharp _ . That’s not it, the word is wrong, but the spray rises up to his overheated skin and that’s all he can think. It’s cutting right through him. Where the tide recedes the chilled skin is left feeling warm and tingling, and he surges forward seeking more.

Beneath the surf, the sandy shore drops away more steeply than expected. Just past the breaking surf it’s up to Jaskier’s waist, a few steps beyond that and it’s mid-chest. The next swell is barreling toward him and from this angle it looks much bigger, blotting out the horizon. 

He spares a quick glance toward Geralt, who trails behind him. Dive, or jump? He flashes back to a childhood filled with summers like this, jumping with the waves, letting the water carry him up and over the top. If he’d tried that then, with waves like this, he’d have been smacked down and under like he doesn’t even want to think of.

And then he has no time left. Jaskier jumps, and whoops, as the force carries him gently over and down again. Wonders if he looks silly but doesn’t care, not really. He looks around to see if he can spot Geralt before the next wave rolls in and there, he’s popping up and rolling like a seal, and shaking off the water droplets that cling to him.

“Geralt, jump with me!” Jaskier shouts and the next wave is ready for him. 

“What?” Geralt shouts back and gets smacked by the wave as Jaskier pushes off with his legs and rises up, up and over.

Geralt comes up laughing. Dives and swims his way closer to where Jaskier is standing. 

Two waves later, he gets close enough to pull Jaskier against his body, tuck him against his chest as they stare down the next one. And Jaskier had forgotten already, forgotten that the warm humming in his skin is born of chill until he feels Geralt like a furnace against his back.

He turns enough to shove his face into the space between Geralt’s neck and shoulder. Geralt laughs and flinches away because yeah, cold nose. Jaskier burrows closer and then aims a peck at Geralt’s lips, which lands sweetly but now it’s too late to jump or dive and the mountain of water just carries them off their feet back toward the shore and down together into the churning surf. 

Sand burn, probably. Yeah. Jaskier scrapes along on his side, feeling like a stone skipped across a lake, but awash with the rush of tumbling freely and uncontrollably so he just holds his breath against the spray until he can regain his footing.

Geralt’s got seaweed in his hair. Dark green and plump jelly branches tangled in behind his ear and it looks ridiculous. Jaskier likes it so much he doesn’t say a thing, hides the smile at the corner of his mouth as he grabs Geralt’s hand and pulls at him.

Back through the breakers, Jaskier jumps and Geralt dives and shimmers gray and silver in the muted cloud-light and then Geralt jumps too, rising up with one hand clasped in Jaskier’s, and it’s almost gentle because it’s the ocean carrying them and they’re only going where it leads.

Eventually Geralt moves closer to be heard against the background roar. “Your lips are blue.” He wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. “And you’re shivering. We should go warm up.” 

Jaskier wants to deny it, because all he feels is  _ good _ , but Geralt says this with crinkled eyes and suddenly getting warm sounds a lot more appealing.

\- - - -

They’ve made a little camp up the beach, just inside the treeline. The breeze makes quick work of drying their skin, but the sand is another story. Jaskier pulls a cloth from his pack and sets to brushing off as much as he can. It’s mostly a lost cause. They’ll be sandy and salty until the next river but fuck it, that’s worth it.

Jaskier has always loved this feeling. 

Something like being scoured clean. Peaceful but buzzing from the inside out. Hollow and light. He wants to bottle it, store it up in a little flask like one of Geralt’s potions. 

He hums quietly to himself as he cleans the abrasions on his side of his calf and hip. Geralt’s already gone off into the woods to catch them some dinner, so Jaskier sets to work gathering wood for a fire. That completed, he pulls two apples from his saddlebag and offers the horses a treat.

Ah, that’s right! He’s got a few potatoes stored away. Suddenly the taste of crisp fried potatoes is all he can think about, seasoned with a bit of salt.

The sun angles low by the time Geralt returns, peeping under the cloud cover close to the horizon. Jaskier’s got the fire going, sliced potatoes sizzling away in the little frying pan he carries with him for occasions like this. Just as he’d hoped, Geralt has a small bundle of green onions along with the birds he brought back. 

Geralt takes a deep breath through his nose, clearly enjoying the rich smell of crisping potatoes. 

“They’ll be done soon.” Jaskier looks up with a happy smile. “You ever wonder why fried potatoes taste better than anything after a swim? Better than themselves at any other time, actually…”

“Do they?” Geralt begins working on the birds, getting them ready to roast.

“They  _ do _ , Geralt. And those bird-things you’ve got there, you know they’ll be extra delicious too. All we need now is some wine…” 

There is wine, and fresh water too, and nowhere else they need to be.

\- - - -

The cooler night air is alive with sound and Jaskier swims in it, letting it pass through the lightness of him. The slow distant roar of the tide, the breeze stirring heavy-leafed branches above, the easy chirp of crickets.

They’re laying out on their bedrolls now, not yet ready to sleep but enjoying each other’s warmth beneath the darkened sky, the fire burned down to coals.

Salt and dried sweat. Muscles loose and deliciously tired. When he closes his eyes, it still feels like the waves are rocking him, the inner ear’s version of muscle memory. He’s a happy little toasted marshmallow, done just right on the outside, all melty on the inside.

He opens his eyes.

“So tell me, Geralt. Do I have good ideas or what?” Jaskier smiles teasingly and cuddles a little closer to Geralt’s side.

“Liked watching you out there,” he says, after a pause. “Like seeing you that happy.” 

Geralt runs his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm, just a bit.

“You didn’t mind the cold, though? Woulda thought you’d hate it, how you get at night.”

“It’s a different kind of nice, I think. And it does.. something. After. Balances?” He tilts his head to the side, looking for the right words.

Geralt makes a soft noise in response, thinking.

“We used to cut holes in the ice, at Kaer Morhen. The boys. When the lake froze over, it got thick. Sometimes it’d take hours to chop through, get a good size spot opened up. Then we’d take turns going in. See how long we could stand it.”

Jaskier shivers a little, imagining it. “That sounds perfectly dreadful, if I’m being honest.”

“Wasn’t.”

“So, what, you’d just strip down right there on the ice and jump in?”

“Pretty much. It started out, the older boys said it’d make us strong, talked us into it.” He laughs, lowly. “But we kept going back.”

“You get balanced, too?”

“You could say that.” A pause, Geralt winds his fingers through Jaskier’s hair and strokes his thumb over the strands, feeling the texture thickened with salt.

“Numbed, maybe. But sharpened, too. This was before we were taught to meditate. We found our own ways, I suppose.”

“You feel any of that today?”

Geralt hums. “Body compensates too well for that these days.”

“I’ll compensate your body.. “ Jaskier teases, which doesn’t actually make sense, but he goes with it, rolling half on top of him.

They’re partly undressed, under a thin blanket, their skin slightly sticky from the dried saltwater and rough with left-behind grains of sand. Jaskier uncurls himself and moves the full extension of his body against Geralt’s, just sliding together, thighs between thighs and chest pressed to chest. 

They’re lazy, not looking for more, not yet. Their lips meet gently, softly, with more warmth than heat.

The feeling that bubbles up in him, he knows the words for it. Knows them well but keeps them safe, keeps them his, for now. Uses his mouth instead for kisses, moving from neck to shoulder and lower until Geralt taps him lightly.

“Jask,” he says quietly. “Look up.”

And he does, rolls into his back to find what Geralt wants him to see. The fire has gone out and stars now light the sky, a wide swath of pinprick speckles. No moon tonight. 

It’s lovely. He stares up, trying to make out individual stars, but they wink and dance away under his focus. Jaskier looks down instead, sees Geralt’s eyes so large and black, his pupils widened to let in the light. 

“What do you see?” Jaskier asks.

And he wants to know, so, so badly. Sometimes that’s all he wants, to get into someone else’s head for a while. Is it like that for his audience, when he plays for them? A chance for them to see the world through another’s perception? 

And he knows  _ describing _ isn’t exactly Geralt’s strong point. But with his enhanced night vision, the stars stretching across the sky must be breathtaking.

“Nothing too different.” Geralt gazes up past Jaskier, head tilted toward the sky. He looks peaceful, content. “Same stars, just brighter. I might see more of ‘em.” 

Jaskier kisses him then, licks lightly at his lower lip, tastes the milky spill of stars from his tongue. 

He wants to do more than kiss, but there will be plenty of time for that, later, when he’s not completely boneless. In the morning. The ocean claimed its toll today.

For now, he winds himself closer and rests. Thinks about how they’ll fall asleep here tonight, intertwined beneath the blazing sky, ocean beating softly in their ears and bodies warm with each other’s heat. 

And they do.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m new at writing - I tried! But I had fun writing it and I hope someone out there might like it too. Thanks for reading!


End file.
